Chapter 8
One fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish. Once the stupid refrain had gotten into Gabe’s head—thanks, Freddie—it refused to leave. The continual looping sing-song went round and round and round, and in between were scattered images. The damn domestic terrorist brothers weren’t even named Fish, it was Fisc, but once Freddie had said it the first time, everyone had picked up on it.
Two racist idiots who’d barricaded themselves inside a black church, holding the Sunday school kids hostage, and it had gone straight to s**t. Both the Fisc brothers were dead, but so were three kids, the pastor, and a half dozen of the congregation. They’d be a three day newspaper wonder and then the whole country would move on to the next mass shooting.
And the next.
Gabe hadn’t been hurt, just a sk
